Up the valley of the Bear Water,
slightly above Glencaid,--far enough beyond the saloon radius to
protect his men from possible corruption, yet within easy reach of the
military telegraph,--they made camp in the early morning upon a wooded
terrace overlooking the stage road, and settled quietly down as one of
those numerous posts with which the army chiefs sought to hem in the
dissatisfied redmen, and learn early the extent of their hostile plans.
Brant was now in a humor considerably happier than when he first rode
forth from Bethune. A natural soldier, sincerely ambitious in his
profession, anything approximating to active service instantly aroused
his interest, while his mind was ever inclined to respond with
enthusiasm to the fascination of the plains and the hills across which
their march had extended. Somewhere along that journey he had dropped
his earlier burden of regret, and the spirit of the service had left
him cheerfully hopeful of some stern soldierly work. He watched the
men of his troop while with quip and song they made comfortable camp;
he spoke a few brief words of instruction to the grave-faced first
sergeant, and then strolled slowly up the valley, his own affairs soon
completely forgotten in the beauty of near-by hills beneath the golden
glory of the morning sun.
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